Can’t even

[infryq]

Yesterday I made all the code work for the hackathon, including the unit tests and the synthetic data. I reorganized the weights files to look more like the real ones, and started the massive run across all synthetic data starting from 6 April to generate the gold results and baseline running time. I didn’t get as much done as I wanted on the presentation, mostly due to a surprise litany of meetings I’d forgotten about, including a therapy appointment. We started a new team leads meeting and discussed hiring issues and a wee bit of planning for 1.5. Therapy was fine, though I may be getting into a mode where I’m so excited to talk about everything that’s going on that I forget how exhausting some of it is even when asked directly. Met with Engineering and we uncovered a surprise; the new automated system for cases and deaths accidentally switched our data storage policy from first-issue to most-recent-issue. So that will have to go into the API notes.

Dinner, crossword, then worked on diagrams until bedtime. Dreamt of a fascination with Japanese cooking pottery, small children and fire hazards, window glazing, nasty burns, spice blends, herbalism.

I finished Blood Lust and I’m livid with the author; this is abusive grooming behavior. Spoilers follow but I will not be obscuring them because this is more important than preserving whatever intent the author might have had for how readers encounter his story. You do not get to stalk a teenager less than a third your age, arrange for the city guard to chase them into your tavern so you can “save” them, tell them adventure stories, ignore their requests, then when they protest say they’re welcome to leave... lead them up to the roof, have your cronies bring you things to show off your status, make as if to leave them there, then when they predictably follow you, lead them to a freaking monster without telling them, just so you can see if you’re right about their nascent fighting skills, then offer them the dubious choice of coming with you permanently for a life of adventure or returning home... complete with a laundry list of all the things that make them unhappy there. Again, ignoring the now incredibly justified angry protest, again, if you don’t like it there’s the door, baby I know I don’t treat you right and I won’t blame you if you leave but you know no one will ever love you like I do and there’s so much I still want to teach you and so much good we can do together and besides, who would believe you?

... just. No. The fuck is wrong with you?